Once every hundred years, give or take
by Llyzbeth
Summary: Pre-"Rose". The Doctor has a conversation with another traveler who only visits once a century.


I wrote this as an anniversary present for my twin sister and her husband, who between the two of them: took me to New York for the first time, convinced me to watch the new Doctor Who, and introduced me to the comic book series that I've gleefully borrowed from to write this story. Plus LadyDragon4's my beta, so it all works out well.

Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. In addition, I've borrowed one character and one quote from Mr. Gaiman, I hope he doesn't mind.

* * *

Standing on a stone bridge, the Doctor looked out at the lake, the boats on the lake, the happy people in the boats on the lake, the sun glinting off the expensive sunglasses on the happy people in the boats on the lake, all that. And he sulked.

He didn't even know why he came here any more. New York, Central Park, the year 2093, and it was so perfectly, exquisitely, mind-bogglingly BORING. This stupid planet hadn't changed one particle worth mentioning in the last 150 years. And wouldn't change for another hundred years, give or take a decade, now that he thought about it.

Most everybody still preoccupied with the latest personal-communication-whatsit, the latest mode of transportation, the latest extend-your-life-boost-your-sex-drive-and-keep-you-thin-forever health nonsense, all that. Hardly anyone paying attention to how many species bit the big one yesterday (27, to be brutally precise, and that was a _light_ day) or how many children just had to do without eating today (and even the Doctor didn't want to be brutally precise on that one. Far too many. Including several hundred within a few square miles of this oh-so-pretty park.)

And not nearly enough people getting terrified out of their tiny little minds about how fast this ball of dirt was coming to the point where hey, guess what, planet's ruined, nothing grows here any more and you can't comfortably breathe the air without seventeen filters and a lot of expensive chemicals that the children who had to skip that whole "eating" thing can't really afford...

The Doctor sighed, resting his arms on the railing and looking at his shoes instead of all the pretty people, and thought about Gallifrey. And wondered if it took having your planet being destroyed to really appreciate it. Possibly. Probably. Almost definitely really. Especially when a species perfected space travel and figured "Well there's always another planet out there we can jump to sooner or later." Never realizing that the feeling of missing the house you grew up in is _nothing_ compared to missing the planet your species was created on. Makes homesickness look like a slightly longish trip to the market in comparison.

Stars and planets, he thought. When did I get to be so _old_.

"Been a couple hundred years hasn't it?" Said a voice to his right.

Startled, he glanced over and saw a young woman, in fashionable black and a ridiculously unfashionable top hat. Combined with a particular necklace and eye-makeup the Egyptians would've fancied, it almost looked like...

"Oh," he said, not completely unpleasantly. "It's you."

"And you," she said, smiling sweetly. "You've changed a bit."

"And you haven't. At all. You're fond of that look aren't you?"

"It works. It's comfortable anyway. Look, I'm not here for you if that's what you're wondering."

"No, I know. Well, I know that _now_ anyway. I mean," he fidgeted. "I was just wondering why in the world I kept coming to this boring little spot in this boring little year...I mean I have to have visited January and October a few different times and figured I'd try June on a whim...and I sort of forgot until now that this was your year. Your day. For this century anyway. Explains a lot. Why I'd come here anyway. Though, now that I think of it, I should've just wandered around 2193 instead, would've been a hell of a lot more interesting..."

"Beaks and claws," she muttered under her breath, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at him. "I forgot what a tangled web it is to try and have a conversation with you."

"Well look," he snapped irritably. "I don't wanna keep you, I know you've only got the day and all..." he stopped, and looked around. "Hang on, weren't you in New York the last time?"

"Mmm-hmm," she agreed, looking around at the sun and water and the okay fine _quite_ impressive New York skyline. "I guess I wanted another look. I like it here." She grinned. "But I've got a friend with tickets on the sub-orbital to India in thirty minutes so whatever it is you wanted to ask me, ask fast."

"How'd you know I..."

"Four trips to 2093, four and a _half_ if you count the time you didn't get out of the TARDIS because 'it didn't feel properly 2093-ish outside'. You're wanting to talk. So talk."

"Always figured you'd be mad at me."

"Why? So you've got a little trick. Lots of people have tricks." She smiled again, maybe not so sweetly this time. "I'm kind of inevitable you know."

"I guess that's what I'm askin'." He looked down again, cleared his throat. "Is it worth it, I mean. Hanging about."

"That's definitely not a question for me to answer."

"Oh sod off, of course it is." He waved his hand at the pretty people and the sparkly sunglasses. "Look at them."

"Uh-huh."

"You know, you've _been_ there, _lots_ of species have taken the long walk off the short evolutionary plank. Maybe some of 'em deserved it. " He clenched his fists, stared off into the sun in a way no human would've been able to manage. "Maybe mine did. Maybe they didn't. We certainly liked to meddle didn't we. But.." he trailed off, and looked her in the eyes. "Am I just charging with pointy sticks at windmills here? Their kind, they've got _lots_ of political types who'd say 'species become extinct, it's nature, it happens, trying to save a few doomed fauna is a waste of time, effort, and money.'" The Doctor shrugged. "Maybe that goes for the human race too."

"Ah, but you don't believe that."

"Don't I?"

"No," she poked him in the chest. "You don't. Because you know them almost as well as I do." She waved a hand at the skyline, the lake, the pretty people, the water, the sunlight shining in the Doctor's very-much-not-human eyes. "_You_ know, that for all the people who go around ignoring all the beautiful things put in front of them, there's _just_ as many people who pay attention to it with every inch of their lives. There's the man who _literally_ ran into a burning car to save a toddler he'd never met. There's the guy who jumped down in front of a subway to save an unconscious woman, almost got wiped out himself, and he didn't even hang around to get thanked for it. There's the woman who could've been anything in the world, a teacher, a model, a mother, whatEVER, but she sacrificed her life to save _another_ species of ape, because she wanted to see it done right. For CRYING out loud.." she laughed. "...there's the lady who paid for the coffee of the person behind her, because she had a little left over at payday this week and wanted to spread the wealth."

She grinned at him, delighted. "It's not just the huge things, it's the completely RANdom nice things that people do. That they've always done, and always will do. The guy at the recycling center who wouldn't take the girl's fee to drop off her old monitor. The airline employee who refunded all the money for a last-minute ticket, nobody's ever figured out why. The woman who picked up a hitchhiker, just because she hoped if her daughter ever needed a lift, someone would help her too." She crossed her arms, totally smug. "All those little things, every _single_ day. Just random." She nudged him with her elbow. "Kind of like you Doctor. ComPLETEly random in your niceness."

"Except I'm hardly nice."

"Oh fine, you're calculating and cynical and spend FAR too much time on your own even though deep down you genuinely LIKE people." She glared at him. "You're VERY much like one of my brothers."

"A social, well-adjusted chap I expect?"

"Hardly." She poked him again. "Take it from me, the _last_ thing you need is to distance yourself from these people." She winked. "Go find yourself a girlfriend woudja?"

He laughed carelessly, though if you were paying attention you might see that his ears were blushing. "Any girl who'd have me would have to be completely off her rocker wouldn't she."

"Then she'd be _perfect_ for you."

"You don't think I should have a normal girl?"

"Normal," she said, nudging her top hat into place. "..is a setting on a washing machine."

"Fair point." He smiled at her gently. "It was nice seeing you."

"It always is," she said, and touched his arm. "I know I'll see you again. You're one of the few ones who gets repeat visits."

"Have fun in India."

"I will. Where are you off to?"

"Oh, same old life, back to the TARDIS." He checked his watch. "I've gotta see a man about getting ahold of some anti-plastic. I think it's gonna come in handy about eighty-some-odd-years ago."

"I won't ask. Take care of yourself."

"I always do. Take care of everybody else."

"Always do."

* * *

"One day in every century Death takes on mortal flesh...and this is the price she must pay for being the divider of the living from all that has gone before, all that must come after..."

"Time Lords have this little trick, it's sort of a way of cheatin' Death..."


End file.
